Shabbat #38
Guests: The Steinbecks
Menu: Filets, Roasted Butternut Squash Over Greens, Garlic Mashed Potatos, Mice Cookies
What I Learned:
COMING SOON
Friday, October 29, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
50 Before 50
1. Sleep in the Grand Canyon.
2. Climb a mountain.
3. Take ballroom dancing lessons.
4. Race NASTAR with my father, Ben, Sarah and Steve.
5. Go back to Israel.
6. Ride my bike across a state.
7. Learn Hebrew (again) with Ben.
8. Stay on an ashram.
9. Finish a marathon in 15 more states.
10. Run an ultra-marathon.
11. Go sailing with my Dad.
12. Start a foundation that serves kids and the outdoors.
13. Lead a fundraising effort that raises in excess of $50k.
14. Master a headstand.
15. Run a 5K with both my children.
16. Be a spectator at the Olympics.
17. Ride part of the Tour de France course.
18. Audition for a play.
19. Eat vegetables from my own garden.
20. Learn to bake the perfect challah.
21. Write a book.
22. Finish the kids’ baby books.
23. Go to survival school.
24. Visit at least 10 more National Parks.
25. Complete an adventure race.
26. Paint my face for a football game.
27. Tailgate with the kids at Purdue.
28. Plan a reunion.
29. Organize the Berkeley genealogy records.
30. Help build a house with Habitat for Humanity.
31. Go on an overnight train trip with a sleeper car.
32. Read the Torah.
33. Take the kids to a dude ranch.
34. Buy a fuel efficient American car.
35. Help start a family business that turns a profit.
36. Ride a camel.
37. Build a sukkah.
38. Handwrite 50 letters to impactful people.
39. Get certified in CPR.
40. Ski hut to hut in the Rockies.
41. Rescue an animal.
42. Swing on a trapeze.
43. Renew my vows.
44. Add “dean” to my job title.
45. Speak as an “expert” at a conference.
46. Line dance at a country western bar.
47. Drive cross country in an RV.
48. Spend the night in a lighthouse.
49. Trek to Machu Picchu.
50. Skydive.
2. Climb a mountain.
3. Take ballroom dancing lessons.
4. Race NASTAR with my father, Ben, Sarah and Steve.
5. Go back to Israel.
6. Ride my bike across a state.
7. Learn Hebrew (again) with Ben.
8. Stay on an ashram.
9. Finish a marathon in 15 more states.
10. Run an ultra-marathon.
11. Go sailing with my Dad.
12. Start a foundation that serves kids and the outdoors.
13. Lead a fundraising effort that raises in excess of $50k.
14. Master a headstand.
15. Run a 5K with both my children.
16. Be a spectator at the Olympics.
17. Ride part of the Tour de France course.
18. Audition for a play.
19. Eat vegetables from my own garden.
20. Learn to bake the perfect challah.
21. Write a book.
22. Finish the kids’ baby books.
23. Go to survival school.
24. Visit at least 10 more National Parks.
25. Complete an adventure race.
26. Paint my face for a football game.
27. Tailgate with the kids at Purdue.
28. Plan a reunion.
29. Organize the Berkeley genealogy records.
30. Help build a house with Habitat for Humanity.
31. Go on an overnight train trip with a sleeper car.
32. Read the Torah.
33. Take the kids to a dude ranch.
34. Buy a fuel efficient American car.
35. Help start a family business that turns a profit.
36. Ride a camel.
37. Build a sukkah.
38. Handwrite 50 letters to impactful people.
39. Get certified in CPR.
40. Ski hut to hut in the Rockies.
41. Rescue an animal.
42. Swing on a trapeze.
43. Renew my vows.
44. Add “dean” to my job title.
45. Speak as an “expert” at a conference.
46. Line dance at a country western bar.
47. Drive cross country in an RV.
48. Spend the night in a lighthouse.
49. Trek to Machu Picchu.
50. Skydive.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Retirement Fund
Shabbat #35:
Guests: Our next door neighbor Kenny
Menu: Israeli Spiced Grilled Chicken, Tomato & Cucumber Salad with Lime Vinegarette, Sweet Potato Stuffed Kreplach, Sorbet
What I Learned:
COMING SOON
Guests: Our next door neighbor Kenny
Menu: Israeli Spiced Grilled Chicken, Tomato & Cucumber Salad with Lime Vinegarette, Sweet Potato Stuffed Kreplach, Sorbet
What I Learned:
COMING SOON
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Yom Kippur: Fish Eyes
I think pretty much everyone has heard of Jonah and the Whale. You know ... the guy who gets himself thrown into the ocean while trying to weasel out of some serious work and ends up in the belly of a whale. There's a lot more to the story, but it was the belly of the whale part that always hung me up. Hearing the story as a child, I wondered whether someone could actually live inside a whale. Could it happen to me? And then there was the whole "gross" factor on the whale puking Jonah onto the shore. Followed by the chorus of "eews" from the Sunday School story circle.
Even today it still hangs me up. What exactly was Jonah doing in that whale the whole time? I'm guessing he was praying, giving thanks for being alive (albeit in a belly) and making amends with G-d. But seriously folks, three days is a long time. There must have been more.
If I were stuck in a whale for three days (and believe me ... some days I actually wish for three days alone ... anywhere) what would I be doing? Besides praying. If it's like anytime else I've felt trapped in a place I didn't want to be, I'd probably obsess about not being able to run. And then I'd obsess about all the things I could be doing ... like billing time, running errands, planning dinner and finally remembering to not send the kids to school in their grubbiest t-shirts for picture day.
And then I'd settle in. Right in front of those two big fish eyes that would be my windows to the world and make a decision.
Would I look out those windows wishing I were someone else, namely someone not trapped in the belly of a fish? Someone else that I imagined was luckier, had better judgment and surely would have not gotten herself into a pickle like me.
Or would I look into the window at my own reflection. Not at the wrinkles and the scar beneath my left eye that I'm still trying to embrace, but inside myself ... the woman who landed herself smack dab in the belly of a whale.
Having spent a good number of my nearly 40 years looking out, I've pretty much concluded that wishing I was someone else does not make it so. If it did I would have been prom queen or "that mom" whose life seems to spin in perfect order. I've let go of my ballot in the box, prom queen validation and am finally beginning to understand that "that mom" who appears to be floating through life is probably paddling like hell underneath just like the rest of us. Wishing for those things now only makes me, well, less hopeful.
I've also spent a good amount of time, particularly lately, looking in. Looking within myself for the reason why I'm sometimes the one stuck in the belly of a whale and making changes to insure I don't end up there again anytime soon. And I can tell you sometimes it's pretty darn hard. Like "throw me overboard so I can wait for someone else to save me" hard. But most the time its been worth the effort with each effort building upon the last. And that's what makes me, well, more hopeful. Not to mention stronger, more honest and more certain.
So if I ever find myself in the belly of a whale like Jonah, I'm planning to use those three days and those two big fish eyes to look in.
Even today it still hangs me up. What exactly was Jonah doing in that whale the whole time? I'm guessing he was praying, giving thanks for being alive (albeit in a belly) and making amends with G-d. But seriously folks, three days is a long time. There must have been more.
If I were stuck in a whale for three days (and believe me ... some days I actually wish for three days alone ... anywhere) what would I be doing? Besides praying. If it's like anytime else I've felt trapped in a place I didn't want to be, I'd probably obsess about not being able to run. And then I'd obsess about all the things I could be doing ... like billing time, running errands, planning dinner and finally remembering to not send the kids to school in their grubbiest t-shirts for picture day.
And then I'd settle in. Right in front of those two big fish eyes that would be my windows to the world and make a decision.
Would I look out those windows wishing I were someone else, namely someone not trapped in the belly of a fish? Someone else that I imagined was luckier, had better judgment and surely would have not gotten herself into a pickle like me.
Or would I look into the window at my own reflection. Not at the wrinkles and the scar beneath my left eye that I'm still trying to embrace, but inside myself ... the woman who landed herself smack dab in the belly of a whale.
Having spent a good number of my nearly 40 years looking out, I've pretty much concluded that wishing I was someone else does not make it so. If it did I would have been prom queen or "that mom" whose life seems to spin in perfect order. I've let go of my ballot in the box, prom queen validation and am finally beginning to understand that "that mom" who appears to be floating through life is probably paddling like hell underneath just like the rest of us. Wishing for those things now only makes me, well, less hopeful.
I've also spent a good amount of time, particularly lately, looking in. Looking within myself for the reason why I'm sometimes the one stuck in the belly of a whale and making changes to insure I don't end up there again anytime soon. And I can tell you sometimes it's pretty darn hard. Like "throw me overboard so I can wait for someone else to save me" hard. But most the time its been worth the effort with each effort building upon the last. And that's what makes me, well, more hopeful. Not to mention stronger, more honest and more certain.
So if I ever find myself in the belly of a whale like Jonah, I'm planning to use those three days and those two big fish eyes to look in.
Friday, September 10, 2010
To One Sweet New Year ... And One Sweet Kugel
Rosh Hashanah is my favorite Jewish holiday. For all of the obvious reasons. And for one not so obvious reason.
Mah's Sweet Kugel.
Deb Z. -- affectionately known as "Mah" to an endless stream of daughters and grandchildren -- is my sister-in-law's mom.
It's hands down the best kugel ever. But that's not why I love it so. I love it because it reminds me of, well, everything else I love. Like pasta. And dessert. All rolled into one. Like the first Jewish holiday that I spent with Steve's extended family when I first tasted it. Exactly one year after Steve asked me out on our first date. It reminds me of a house bursting with family. And of my oldest niece Dylan who requests that "Mah" make it for every birthday. And it especially reminds me of Rosh Hashanah, particularly last year's when Rabbi Talve gave me the opportunity to share my own experience with the congregation during the high holiday service. An opportunity that made my family and me stronger. And ultimately led to this Year of Shabbats.
Years ago I asked Deb for her sweet kugel recipe. It went something like "a dash of this, a dab of that" as she rattled it off the top of her head. I gave it a try, but my rendition didn't hold a candle to hers. Just as well. I'd much prefer her original, the anticipation of whether I'll find it on the table at the next holiday event and all of the sweet memories that will follow.
Happy New Year!
Mah's Sweet Kugel.
Deb Z. -- affectionately known as "Mah" to an endless stream of daughters and grandchildren -- is my sister-in-law's mom.
It's hands down the best kugel ever. But that's not why I love it so. I love it because it reminds me of, well, everything else I love. Like pasta. And dessert. All rolled into one. Like the first Jewish holiday that I spent with Steve's extended family when I first tasted it. Exactly one year after Steve asked me out on our first date. It reminds me of a house bursting with family. And of my oldest niece Dylan who requests that "Mah" make it for every birthday. And it especially reminds me of Rosh Hashanah, particularly last year's when Rabbi Talve gave me the opportunity to share my own experience with the congregation during the high holiday service. An opportunity that made my family and me stronger. And ultimately led to this Year of Shabbats.
Years ago I asked Deb for her sweet kugel recipe. It went something like "a dash of this, a dab of that" as she rattled it off the top of her head. I gave it a try, but my rendition didn't hold a candle to hers. Just as well. I'd much prefer her original, the anticipation of whether I'll find it on the table at the next holiday event and all of the sweet memories that will follow.
Happy New Year!
Monday, August 30, 2010
Life Lessons and a Side of Fried Butter
Shabbat #30
Guests: Suzanne and Neil and son A. Suzanne went to elementary school with Steve and I know Neil from cycling. Our sons are close in age and had a near miss last fall at the Meramec School carnival ... but things went swimmingly on Friday.
Menu: Sweet Potato Chips and Mango Salsa, Grilled Salmon with Citrus Salsa Verde, Watermelon Salad, Garlic Couscous, Toby's Challah, Cheesecake with Hand Picked Michigan Blueberry Sauce
What I Learned:
Truth be told, we're more country than country club. Especially now.
Suzanne's known Steve since the second grade. She can attest. Attest to the plaid shirts with the mother of pearl snaps and Wrangler jeans that were Steve's uniform before a certain high school girlfriend (we'll call her Ann) convinced him that penny loafers and pink polos were more fitting for a Ladue Ram football player. Next time you catch me in blue jeans check out my belt. It'll probably be a leather one with a silver sundial buckle and S-T-E-V-E etched across the back - a precious relic from Steve's cowboy days.
While the plaid shirts may be long gone, Steve's love (and mine) of the slower life, the outdoors and the simple things isn't. A reminder of years of sweet childhood memories made in Innsbrook, Wickenberg and Colorado. Of western saddles, barrel racing and campfires. And a chance for us to make new memories with our children.
Our Friday shabbat dinner was followed by an overnight trip to Sedalia, Missouri for the Missouri State Fair. It's one of several trips we've made as a family to various fairs, rodeos, tractor pulls, monster truck shows, and ... yes, now even a demolition derby. I love it because it's impossibly low key. My $3 straw cowboy is the only accessory I need. Blending in beats standing out.
But maybe even more important is the opportunity it gives us to teach our children things they might not otherwise learn ... or a least learn as easily ... at home.
I feel enormously lucky to be able to raise my children in a neighborhood where I can walk them to one of the best public schools in the country; and I value the importance that the school and our broader community and congregation places upon diversity and sensitivity on everything from peanuts to birthday parties, but sometimes I wonder whether it paints a realistic expectation for my kids. Is this teaching them about the world outside of our sometimes hyper-sensitive bubble?
Sometimes I need to be reminded that the energy I put into teaching Ben and Sarah about being sensitive to differences is equal to the energy I need to put into teaching them about how to sensitively respond to situations that are not so diverse. Life outside the bubble. To embrace and share those aspects of themselves that make them different. And to respect the differences in others.
The state fair is a great place to teach those lessons and gorge ourselves on all things fried.
Take the Dairy Barn -- more than a place to teach the difference between dairy cows and beef cows. Ben met a boy not much older than himself that had dedicated hours upon hours to raising the cow he so proudly led into Coliseum for the Youth Guernsey Cow Judging. Wearing pristine white jeans, a button up shirt and a look of determination. A little bit different from the select baseball league he's watched cousin Jake play in all summer, but no less impressive.
And then there was the quest for the "Rodeo" ball cap from a kiosk of cowboy hats adorned with crosses prompting Ben's question: Why are there X's on all of those hats? An opportunity to teach him that just how sometimes we, as Jews, identify ourselves with the Star of David, Christians identify themselves with a cross ... saving (but perhaps teeing up) the more complicated explanations of what those symbols signify.
Or the demolition derby ... which by the way is NOT like Wresting At the Chase; these guys in these cars are for real. When the announcer takes to the microphone to bless the drivers and leads the fans in the Lord's prayer it is a moment to coach Ben on paying respect to a different kind of prayer. Just as all of his non-Jewish friends that have shared Shabbat dinner with us this year have paid respect to his prayers over the bread and wine.
Yeah ... gotta love the State Fair. Fried butter. Funnel cakes. Meat on a stick. And a few life lessons thrown in for good measure.
Guests: Suzanne and Neil and son A. Suzanne went to elementary school with Steve and I know Neil from cycling. Our sons are close in age and had a near miss last fall at the Meramec School carnival ... but things went swimmingly on Friday.
Menu: Sweet Potato Chips and Mango Salsa, Grilled Salmon with Citrus Salsa Verde, Watermelon Salad, Garlic Couscous, Toby's Challah, Cheesecake with Hand Picked Michigan Blueberry Sauce
What I Learned:
Truth be told, we're more country than country club. Especially now.
Suzanne's known Steve since the second grade. She can attest. Attest to the plaid shirts with the mother of pearl snaps and Wrangler jeans that were Steve's uniform before a certain high school girlfriend (we'll call her Ann) convinced him that penny loafers and pink polos were more fitting for a Ladue Ram football player. Next time you catch me in blue jeans check out my belt. It'll probably be a leather one with a silver sundial buckle and S-T-E-V-E etched across the back - a precious relic from Steve's cowboy days.
While the plaid shirts may be long gone, Steve's love (and mine) of the slower life, the outdoors and the simple things isn't. A reminder of years of sweet childhood memories made in Innsbrook, Wickenberg and Colorado. Of western saddles, barrel racing and campfires. And a chance for us to make new memories with our children.
Our Friday shabbat dinner was followed by an overnight trip to Sedalia, Missouri for the Missouri State Fair. It's one of several trips we've made as a family to various fairs, rodeos, tractor pulls, monster truck shows, and ... yes, now even a demolition derby. I love it because it's impossibly low key. My $3 straw cowboy is the only accessory I need. Blending in beats standing out.
But maybe even more important is the opportunity it gives us to teach our children things they might not otherwise learn ... or a least learn as easily ... at home.
I feel enormously lucky to be able to raise my children in a neighborhood where I can walk them to one of the best public schools in the country; and I value the importance that the school and our broader community and congregation places upon diversity and sensitivity on everything from peanuts to birthday parties, but sometimes I wonder whether it paints a realistic expectation for my kids. Is this teaching them about the world outside of our sometimes hyper-sensitive bubble?
Sometimes I need to be reminded that the energy I put into teaching Ben and Sarah about being sensitive to differences is equal to the energy I need to put into teaching them about how to sensitively respond to situations that are not so diverse. Life outside the bubble. To embrace and share those aspects of themselves that make them different. And to respect the differences in others.
The state fair is a great place to teach those lessons and gorge ourselves on all things fried.
Take the Dairy Barn -- more than a place to teach the difference between dairy cows and beef cows. Ben met a boy not much older than himself that had dedicated hours upon hours to raising the cow he so proudly led into Coliseum for the Youth Guernsey Cow Judging. Wearing pristine white jeans, a button up shirt and a look of determination. A little bit different from the select baseball league he's watched cousin Jake play in all summer, but no less impressive.
And then there was the quest for the "Rodeo" ball cap from a kiosk of cowboy hats adorned with crosses prompting Ben's question: Why are there X's on all of those hats? An opportunity to teach him that just how sometimes we, as Jews, identify ourselves with the Star of David, Christians identify themselves with a cross ... saving (but perhaps teeing up) the more complicated explanations of what those symbols signify.
Or the demolition derby ... which by the way is NOT like Wresting At the Chase; these guys in these cars are for real. When the announcer takes to the microphone to bless the drivers and leads the fans in the Lord's prayer it is a moment to coach Ben on paying respect to a different kind of prayer. Just as all of his non-Jewish friends that have shared Shabbat dinner with us this year have paid respect to his prayers over the bread and wine.
Yeah ... gotta love the State Fair. Fried butter. Funnel cakes. Meat on a stick. And a few life lessons thrown in for good measure.
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